


Mismatched Match

by LadyDrace



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Basketball Player Derek, High School, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Jock Derek, M/M, Nerd Stiles, POV Stiles, Secret Relationship, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8788654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: Getting to date hot senior jock Derek Hale should be cause for shouting from the rooftops, frankly, but life is a little more complicated than that. Until it isn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [iwillbestrongerthantheworld](http://iwillbestrongerthantheworld.tumblr.com/). Thank you!
> 
> Unbetaed, but thoroughly edited. 

Stiles doesn't mean to keep it a secret. It just kinda happens. Not that he doesn't have enough reason to keep it on the down low at first. He kinda wants to have the _”I'm not exactly straight”_ conversation with his dad before springing the hot jock senior boyfriend on him, and while Derek is out, even to his teammates, he at least wants to ease his closest friends into the idea before having Stiles in the stands wearing his number or anything.

 

There's also that thing they don't talk about but are both aware of: that they might not last. They're kind of a mismatched pair. Derek lives and breathes basketball, and hopes to make a career of it. And while he does have some more bookish hobbies, not a single one of them overlaps with Stiles'. Computer games, wikipedia binging and marathon watching of sci-fi and fantasy are not anywhere on Derek's list of favorite pastimes.

 

And yet.... _and yet_.

 

Despite their clashing interests, as well as the fact they they're two years apart, they still somehow just... work. Inside jokes blossom between them as if by magic, their eyes meet no matter which room they both happen to be in, and when they're alone... that whole thing with sparks flying might not be such an exaggeration.

 

So they definitely have something.

 

Derek hasn't told anyone either, waiting for Stiles to get around to having the talk with his dad, and frankly Stiles suspects Derek of enjoying the sneaking around. He seems to delight in pulling Stiles into empty rooms and working him up before leaving him with rumpled clothes and messed up hair. Not to mention the massive number of inconvenient boners. But Stiles does the same thing to him in return, so fair is fair, really.

 

Scott is definitely onto them, which is cause for some alarm. Because Scott isn't exactly detective material, so when he's getting suspicious they must be a little obvious. And Scott also can't keep a secret to save his life, so time is running out. But, then again, it's been almost three months. Even Stiles has to admit he's dragging his feet now. Derek's soft and happy smile when Stiles tells him he's gonna talk to his dad later that day is the ultimate sign that it's time.

 

Derek drives him home after school, the Jeep having another one of its _refusing to start for unknown but definitely expensive reasons_ days, and Stiles is weak, so very weak, in the face of post-practice Derek. His hair is still damp after his shower, and his shoulders are loose and relaxed. Stiles wants to kiss him so badly, but since they're essentially still a secret, he can't just lean across the console and kiss his boyfriend goodbye. So he invites Derek in. Probably not the brightest move he's ever made.

 

They're both careful about not going too far with the intimacy, but anything above the belt is pretty much fair game, and the door is hardly even closed behind them before they slam together, making out against the front door for a while before Stiles makes an attempt at being a good host and offers Derek a drink. It's a hot day, so they do manage to part for long enough to each have a few sips of water, but hormones will always win in the end. Stiles almost drops his glass when Derek crowds him against the kitchen counter, clearly more thirsty in the metaphorical way than the physical, but Stiles welcomes it, and fumbles his glass further onto the counter before flinging his arms around Derek's neck.

 

”Why are you so tall?” he grumbles against Derek's lips, and shivers from the huff of breath washing over his cheek.

 

”You're catching up, though.”

 

Which is a good point. Stiles is only fifteen, and he shot up almost two full inches over the summer, so he's obviously still growing. But for now Derek has the advantage, and Stiles has to crane his neck to reach. His heart jumps into his throat when Derek's hands slide down below the belt suddenly, brushing along Stiles' thighs. They both agreed early on that they would take things as slow as possible, because first of all they both have powerful and overprotective parents hammering good sense into their heads on a daily basis. And while Stiles isn't eager to admit it, he's just not ready yet, no matter how much he wants it. So Derek's hands on his legs feel shocking like fire, and he's about to ask Derek to maybe cool it a little, when the hands circle around to take hold of a leg each, hoisting Stiles onto the kitchen counter in one impressive heave.

 

”Oh my god, unfair,” Stiles moans, because even though he lovingly mocks Derek for showing off his muscle, he also not so secretly loves it. Manhandling really does it for him, apparently.

 

”It seemed practical,” Derek murmurs into the kiss, and he's right. It puts Stiles at the perfect height, an inch or so higher than Derek now, so much more comfortable, and Stiles rewards Derek for being super clever by pulling him in with arms and legs, effectively locking him in place.

 

”Oh, baby, I'm in love with your brain.” Derek has to stop kissing to laugh, and Stiles bites him gently on the shoulder. ”Oh shut up, it's not like my blood supply is heading North right now, asshole.”

 

”That usually doesn't stop you talking, though, does it?”

 

”No, but clearly it's kinda hampering my wit, here.”

 

”Too bad,” Derek tsks, and he totally doesn't mean it, because he's a little bit of an asshole, and god, Stiles is so into that it's ridiculous.

 

He's on an extended mission to map out every inch of Derek's mouth with his tongue when there's a small cough from the kitchen door, and Stiles almost falls off the counter when he sees his dad standing there, hand on his gun belt, and one eyebrow raised way up. Shit.

 

Derek stays where he is, frozen solid between Stiles' legs, and it's unclear whether it's because he's pretrified with fear, or because he's not about to turn around to face Stiles' father with a hard on. Either way, Stiles thinks it's a good choice, and clenches his hands in Derek's t-shirt.

 

”Uhm. Dad. Hi. You're, uh... home early?”

 

”Not really,” he says, and a glance at the wall clock tells Stiles it's true. They've been making out for over twenty minutes. Crap.

 

”Oh. Well, uh. As I'm sure you've guessed, there's, uh... kind of a talk we need to have, Dad.”

 

”You don't say.” He sounds a little amused, but also a little stern, like he does just before he grounds Stiles for well-meaning reasons, and oh god, Stiles doesn't want to be grounded. He'd promised he'd come to Derek's next game, once they'd become official.

 

Derek is still nailed to the floor, eyes wide and terrified, but he's gotta face the music at some point, so after a quick look down to check the state of things, Stiles gently shoves Derek until he turns around, and Stiles can hop off the counter.

 

”Hale,” the sheriff greets, and Derek swallows audibly.

 

”Sir.”

 

”So,” John asks, crossing his arms over his chest. ”How long has this been going on?”

 

”Two months and twenty six days, sir,” Derek rattles off before Stiles even opens his mouth. He'd find it amusing if he wasn't feeling the same impulse to either confess all his sins or run away and hide. But also...

 

”You've been counting the days?” Stiles can't help but ask, because really? That's disgustingly sweet.

 

”Yeah.”

 

”Aww,” Stiles says, and kinda wants to hug Derek, but he's stopped by another cough from John. ”Right, uh, not the time, gotcha.”

 

There's a horribly tense pause where Derek looks like he wants the floor to swallow him, and Stiles feels like he's waiting for the gallows, while John seems to ponder the mystery of two boys in his kitchen, eyes darting from one to the other.

 

”You eighteen yet?” he finally asks Derek, who shakes his head.

 

”Not until December.”

 

”You know what happens when you turn eighteen and your boyfriend isn't yet, right?”

 

”Yes, sir.”

 

”And no one here is pushing anyone to do anything they don't want to, right?”

 

”No, sir!” Derek says firmly, while Stiles flails next to him.

 

”Dad, no! I wouldn't! _Derek_ wouldn't! We _wouldn't!_ ”

 

John huffs at them. ”Good. And it's gonna stay that way. And _when_ things start happening these are the rules: It happens only in this house or Derek's, you will keep yourselves safe, and either I or Derek's parents will supply condoms.”

 

”Oh my _god_ , Dad,” Stiles groans, but but shuts up when John holds up a stern finger.

 

”I don't wanna hear it. I was a teenager too, and I understand, but I'm also an officer of the law, and we could actually get in trouble over this. So when it happens, it happens at home, it happens safely, there will be no pictures or any other proof, and if you need condoms I don't care if you're gonna be scarred for life, you ask me or Derek's parents. Whom I will be having a talk with, too.”

 

This time it's Derek's turn to groan. ”Oh, god.”

 

”Would you rather do it yourself?” John asks, and Derek obviously wavers for a moment before shaking his head.

 

”Alright then. I'm gonna go put my weapon away and change out of these clothes. Then we all go see Derek's parents. And then you and I,” he points to Stiles, ”are gonna have a talk about why you seemed to think you couldn't tell me about this.”

 

”I was just gonna... I dunno, ease you into the idea!”

 

John rolls his eyes. ”This is obviously some kind of lack of trust. I'm hurt. You owe me pizza for my pain and suffering.”

 

”No way, Dad!” Stiles yells, but his dad is already turning around and leaving.

 

”Meat lover's!” he calls from the hallway, and Stiles sputters before giving up on it.

 

”I guess it's better than being grounded,” he mutters, and Derek turns to him with a grin.

 

”So you're coming to my game?”

 

”Yup.”

 

”Wearing my jersey?”

 

”Totally.”

 

Derek steps in front of him again, smile widening on his face. ”And... am I gonna get a pre-game kiss for good luck?”

 

Stiles winds his arms around Derek's neck again, and pulls him closer. ”You can count on it.”

 

Predictably, Stiles' dad gets to walk in on them one more time before herding them out the door.

 

End.

 


End file.
